


state of misperception

by aerobreaking



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-24 02:09:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2564372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerobreaking/pseuds/aerobreaking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred unknowingly falls in love with, and then proceeds to break, a not-so-emotionless machine. AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	state of misperception

**Author's Note:**

> this is supposed to be futuristic. or something. yeah.

Alfred firsts notices the new Russian-made model two days after it is shipped into the space station. It executes criminals of the serial killer variety—or so he had read in the manual. He (can he call it a he?) is pale, his skin almost translucent and his hair as silvery white as the snow he had seen in a recent documentary. He’d never felt it personally, he’d been born and raised in the ISS Sunrise, but he’s sure that it is as cold as the fake skin on the machine’s arms. 

It sometimes talks. To him. Asks questions like: “Are you cold?” and “What are sunflowers like?” 

Alfred doesn’t pay much attention at first, thinking it to be nothing more than a glitch. So he calls maintenance and it is fixed. For a while. A week or two after it begins talking again. “Why did you do that? It hurt.”

It is then that Alfred realizes that what the machine has is more than just a glitch. He should report it; and the model would be taken back, disposed of, and replaced. But the machine looks at him, really looks, and begs, “Don’t hurt me.”

So Alfred keeps quiet. It’s not as if it’s talking is a problem. Even though the machine asks questions, it does it’s job extremely well. While working for the ISS’ public enforcement department Alfred had learned quite a bit. The main thing being that human beings were entirely too cruel. 

When a new serial killer is officially put on death row it would have to suffer the same fate as it’s victims. As it seemed that a death administered by shot was deemed too lenient. His emotionless companion tortured them after the specifics of their MO was uploaded into its memory. Alfred doesn’t stay when it began. He’d seen it once. Just once, years ago, with a different model. 

He remembers it all too clearly. That particular serial killer tortured their victims by amputating their appendages every two hours without any pain killers. Then he’d continue with the intestines and any remaining body part that didn’t immediately kill the victim. The model had done a brusque job then, because it had been a less advanced program. 

But Ivan—Alfred had taken the liberty to name him—perfected his kills down to a T, he’d seen the bodies after he was done with them. It was not something anyone could take. It’s why the job of executing serial killers was given to machines, because they didn’t feel. Or so it is believed.

Weeks pass by, then three months. Ivan asks more questions now.

“What does chocolate taste like?”

“Can you let me see a sunset?”

“What am I?”

“What are you?”

“Why am I not like you?”

Alfred can’t answer the heavy questions. He doesn’t know shit about existentialism. More so than that, he doesn’t know why Ivan is asking these questions. So, finally, after evading it for months, he sends Ivan back to it’s manufacturer. He is returned, Alfred is assured however, that Ivan’s (or Model SK84TY2P9) memory had been wiped clean and his hard drive had been replaced. He should not give anymore problems. After this, it is all quiet for about three weeks.

“You’ve hurt me again. I do not like you anymore.”

And then Ivan says nothing.

Alfred continues on with his life as an officer of the enforcement department. He is promoted. And he leaves Ivan, and the cold, empty execution room behind. Years go by and Alfred lives his life and then, when he is turning forty-seven he is promoted to Director. He returns to the execution room when one of his subordinates reported the malfunction of Model SK84TY2P9. 

He is exactly as he remembers him. Pale, silvery white, and cold. He has not aged a year, unlike Alfred whose face reflects the twenty years that have passed. Ivan sits on a chair in the corner of the execution room. He sits straight up, both feet planted on the ground, and hands on his lap. He does not move. However, his violetvioletviolet (Alfred doesn’t remember them being so vibrant) turn to him. And his eyes smile. Even though not a muscle on his face moves.

Alfred feels something constrict inside him. Because the smile in Ivan’s eyes is not a happy one, it is one brimming with despair and betrayal.

Ivan is sent to maintenance and Alfred returns to the execution room. There he spends his entire days watching as Ivan completes execution after execution. The constant screaming and stench of blood no longer fazes him. After Ivan is done with the days executions he sits in a chair, waiting for Alfred to clean the blood off him.

One day, while cleaning a particularly bloody Ivan, Alfred hears him whisper, “I’ve seen you one last time. I’m ready to die.” It is so quiet that if Alfred wasn’t in his personal space he would have never heard him.

Him. Him. Him. Alfred keeps switching between him and it because he just doesn't know what Ivan is anymore. 

Alfred sends Ivan to maintenance. And when he comes back, he is not Ivan anymore he is Model SK84TY2P9. For the rest of Alfred’s life Ivan never comes back. And it takes him a long, long time (he is nine-five and sitting in his lonely living room) when he realizes the grave mistake he committed. 

His old heart clenches and breaks.


End file.
